


(Can't Get No) Satisfaction

by Arbryna



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Bondage, F/F, Flogging, Ice Play, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbryna/pseuds/Arbryna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bo has Tamsin right where she wants her--and Tamsin has a little trouble with giving up control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Can't Get No) Satisfaction

"Why exactly are my pants still on?" Tamsin asks. Her tone touches on bored, authoritative, impatient—anything that won't let on how out of her element she is. She tugs uselessly at the restraints holding her wrists; she hates not being in control. 

"If you could see yourself right now, you wouldn't have to ask that question," Bo replies. She's still fully dressed—tight black on black as usual, knee-high boots clicking against the floor as she takes a step back and crosses her arms, emphasizing her already generous cleavage. Brown eyes glow electric blue as she rakes them over Tamsin's body. Her teeth close down on her lower lip, and shit, that look alone is enough to make Tamsin clench, straining to press her thighs together to get some kind of relief. 

Granted, Tamsin can't blame Bo for appreciating the view. She's up on her knees in the middle of Bo's bed, her arms held firmly above her head by leather cuffs attached to a chain slung over the crossbeam of the canopy. Bo insisted she take off her shirt and bra, so she's completely naked from the waist up, soft yellow light from the lamp playing over the curves of her body. Tamsin strains against her bonds again, smirking when Bo's eyes fix on her abdomen, where taut muscles flex under her skin above the waistband of her jeans. 

Bo takes note of her amusement and shakes her head, a predatory smile playing at her lips as she takes slow, deliberate steps toward the bed. She stops at the very edge, reaching out until her fingertips hover just out of reach.

Tamsin can feel the heat rolling off of Bo, filling the space between her skin and Bo's hand. She clenches her jaw and wills herself not to move, not to react to this obvious tease. If Bo wants control, she's going to have to take it—no way in hell is Tamsin just handing it over. 

Bo's hand starts to move, careful not to make contact as she traces the contours of Tamsin's chest. It's so close that Tamsin is sure she can feel it; she wants to press forward, to demand to be touched, but her pride refuses to allow it. If it's a battle of wills Bo wants, she'll get it—Tamsin can hold her own against one itty-bitty baby fae. Bo hasn't lived nearly long enough to know the meaning of patience; she'll break soon enough.

When Bo touches her, though, it's not a surrender—it's just the next step in whatever game she's playing. She drags her fingernails lightly over Tamsin's skin, circling a nipple until it stands hard and aching. Bo scrapes a nail over the straining peak, and Tamsin chokes back hard on a groan before it can find voice. 

"You can beg if you want," Bo offers, the dark glint in her eyes telling Tamsin that it's not likely to do any good. 

"Have you ever got the wrong girl," Tamsin scoffs. She leans forward as much as her bonds allow—not very far—and locks her eyes on Bo's. "I don't beg for anything." 

There's a flash of teeth as Bo grins, tucks the first two fingers of each hand under the edge of Tamsin's jeans to pull her closer. "We'll see about that," she murmurs, the words brushing hot against Tamsin's lips. 

Then she's gone, stepping around the bed where Tamsin's eyes can't follow. It doesn't stop her from trying; Tamsin cranes her neck, but all she can see is a glimpse of Bo reaching into a bowl resting on the dresser against the wall. There's a wet rustling sound, and when Bo reappears, she's holding an ice cube in her fingers. It sweats under the heat of Bo's skin, dripping rivulets of water down her wrist and arm as she moves back in. 

Even though she's expecting it, steeling herself against the shock of it, Tamsin can't help but jerk ever-so-slightly as the ice touches her skin. Frigid water slides down over her breast, hot by the time it catches in the waistband of her jeans. 

Bo draws wet patterns across Tamsin's chest, up her throat, down along her collarbone, until the cube is all but melted. She pulls away, raises the remaining flake of ice to her lips, slides her tongue out to draw it into her mouth. Tamsin trembles, gripping the chain her restraints are attached to until her knuckles are white. The warm air is chill against her damp skin, raising goosebumps as the moisture gradually evaporates, while the throbbing between her legs only grows hotter by the second. 

After retrieving another ice cube, Bo traces a frozen trail across Tamsin's stomach, teases at the sensitive skin at her sides. Her hand dips lower, sliding the ice along the top of Tamsin's jeans, and Tamsin can't hold back her moan as a drop of water slips down into the crease of her thigh. 

"I knew I could break you," Bo says triumphantly, still dragging the ice along whatever skin she can reach. 

"Hate to burst your bubble sweetheart," Tamsin replies, her breath coming in shallow pants, "but no one's begging here." 

Bo's lips curl up in a way that looks downright sinister. "Not yet." She goes back to the bowl again, trading in the not-quite-melted ice in her hand for a fresh piece. When she returns, she tugs Tamsin's jeans out just enough to slide her hand inside, presses the ice against Tamsin's clit through her underwear. 

"Shit," Tamsin swears, focusing all her energy on staying still. Her efforts are wasted once Bo moves lower, shoving aside soaked undergarments to push the ice _into_ Tamsin. Her hips jerk against Bo's hand, hard. "Fuck." 

Withdrawing her hand, Bo brings her fingers to her lips, sucking the excess water from them. For a while, she seems content to stand back and watch as Tamsin tries not to writhe, arms straining against her bonds. 

The ice melts quickly, but Tamsin can still _feel_ it somehow long after it's gone. She's dripping, throbbing, and if Bo doesn't fuck her soon, she's seriously considering tugging hard enough to reduce Bo's bed frame to pieces if it will mean her freedom. She doesn't do this slow burn shit, damn it—the only purpose it could possibly serve is to drive her insane. 

A slow smile spreads on Bo's lips, as if she's reading Tamsin's thoughts. She knows exactly what she's doing. She disappears behind Tamsin once more, but this time she doesn't come back. Tamsin hears the sound of her rummaging in the bowl of ice, then feels the mattress behind her dip as Bo climbs on. She tries to turn her head, to see what Bo is doing, but Bo hides her hands behind her back, raising an eyebrow until Tamsin huffs and faces forward again. 

It starts as a soft tickle—leather, suede maybe, long strips of it teasing at the skin of her back. Tamsin frowns, trying to identify the mystery object. Bo's fingers comb through her hair, pushing it forward over her shoulder, and then both Bo and the tickling sensation are gone. 

The leather strikes her back more firmly, skin stinging in its wake, and Tamsin feels like an idiot for not guessing what it was right away. Really, she shouldn't be surprised; a flogger is hardly the most scandalous thing she'd expect to find in a succubus' bedroom. 

"Shoulda known you'd be into some kinky shit," Tamsin cracks, savoring the tingling burn. 

"You have no idea," Bo replies, her voice dark and promising. She falls into a rhythm, striking carefully and methodically across Tamsin's shoulder blades. Tamsin feels her skin growing hot as the lashes come faster and harder. It hurts, but not at all in a bad way; adrenaline races through Tamsin's veins, the pain awakening every nerve ending. It's like a good fight and a good fuck all at once, every part of her alive and buzzing with energy. 

"Is that all you got?" Tamsin pants when Bo takes a break. She may be tied up and shaking, and nearly out of her mind with arousal, but she's still one stubborn bitch. If Bo thinks a little pain is going to be enough to make her beg, she's got a lot to learn.

Leather whistles through the air, and this time when the tails of the flogger make contact it's sharp, more intense than before. Tamsin can feel welts popping up as Bo begins to strike quickly and randomly, not hard enough to injure but enough to remind her who's in control here. 

Then, all at once, Bo stops. Tamsin's skin throbs like it can't decide if it wants more or if it's already had too much. The only things Tamsin knows for sure are that her back feels like it's on fire, and she's going to have to borrow some pants from Bo, because her jeans are practically soaked through.

She can hear Bo moving behind her, the sound muffled by the blood rushing in her ears; then a single drop of frigid water drops onto her skin and Tamsin hisses, arches her back. The drop is followed by the wet slide of ice as Bo paints idle designs onto Tamsin's inflamed skin. The conflicting hot and cold sensations drive Tamsin that much closer to the edge of insanity, and she finds herself writhing under Bo's touch, making strained, needy sounds that are way too close to whimpers for her own comfort. 

Finally, cold fingers slide around her side, settling on her hip as Bo leans in to murmur in her ear. "Ready to say please?" 

Tamsin sucks in a labored breath through her teeth, setting her jaw defiantly. "You'll have to try harder than that," she replies in a shaky voice.

Bo just chuckles and pulls away. She reappears in front of Tamsin holding a plastic bowl, sets it down on the nightstand where Tamsin can see her nestle the long, thick glass handle of the flogger in the ice. Tamsin groans, clenching eagerly in anticipation of what Bo clearly plans to do with that perfectly molded piece of glass. 

Instead of approaching Tamsin, though, Bo moves away, pulls a trunk away from the wall until it's centered in Tamsin's view. She sits down on it and leans back on her hands, observing Tamsin through hooded eyes. A smirk teases at her lips as she raises one hand to trace along the edge of her shirt. 

"That's not gonna satisfy your hunger," Tamsin points out, smug as ever. 

A dark eyebrow arches in amusement. "This room is dripping with sexual energy, thanks to you," Bo replies, her voice edged with need nonetheless. She lets her hand drift down over her breasts, along her belly. "I don't think my hunger is what you need to worry about right now." 

Shit. She's seriously going to do this. Tamsin swallows hard, grips the chains above her head even harder. 

Bo doesn't bother removing clothes, leaving everything up to Tamsin's imagination as her fingers pop the button on her pants and slip inside. Tamsin can't see much, but she can hear the wet slide of Bo's fingers, the shallow gasps and indulgent moans that she just _knows_ Bo is exaggerating to torture her further. 

"That's cheating," Tamsin chokes out. 

A thick, wanton moan tears from Bo's throat as she meets Tamsin's eyes. "The only rule—" she pants out, her hand working faster between her legs, "—was that I get to do—" her eyes slam shut, her arm straining to hold her up as she arches her hips, "—whatever I want with you." 

Including let her suffer, apparently. Tamsin grits her teeth, knowing from the flush of Bo's skin and the urgency of her movements that she's close. Bo comes with a guttural cry, shuddering against her own hand, and Tamsin's own fingers ache where they're wrapped tightly around her chains. 

After several moments of heavy breathing, Bo rises on trembling legs and buttons her pants one-handed. Her steps are clumsy as she moves closer to the bed, raises glistening fingers to Tamsin's mouth. She drags them slowly across Tamsin's lower lip, but when Tamsin snakes her tongue out to lick them clean, Bo just smirks and withdraws her hand, sucking the fingers into her own mouth instead.

"Damn it, Bo," Tamsin groans. She sucks her lip into her mouth, tasting just a faint trace of Bo's arousal. 

"You know what I want." Bo leans in to press a line of slow, teasing kisses along Tamsin's jaw. Her hands drift down to Tamsin's hips, fingers tucking under jeans and underwear and brushing softly against bare, moist skin. 

The sound that comes out of Tamsin's mouth, somewhere between a whimper and a groan, could conceivably be a word, but she's too far gone to be concerned with shit like proper enunciation. 

Bo pulls back, lifts an eyebrow. "Say that again?"

Tamsin rolls her eyes. "Just fuck me already," she says gruffly, jerking her hips forward. Bo smirks, waiting, and Tamsin squeezes her eyes shut, shoves down that last bit of pride. " _Please_." 

It's like a switch has been flipped; Bo wastes little time in popping open Tamsin's jeans, shoving them and her underwear down to her knees. Tamsin hisses as Bo slides a fingertip through the flood of wetness between her legs, rubs a couple of quick circles into her clit. A whimpered protest escapes Tamsin's lips when Bo pulls away, but it turns into a hungry moan when she sees Bo reaching toward the bowl of ice. 

Coiling the leather tails around her hand, Bo brings the handle of the flogger up between Tamsin's thighs. It's cold and hard as it pushes into her, the ridges in the glass providing a delicious friction that Tamsin can't help but clench around. Her hips jerk into each thrust as Bo fucks into her hard and fast, exactly the way she needs it. 

After the prolonged foreplay, it doesn't take long for Tamsin to hurtle over the edge, moaning obscenities and tugging at her restraints until the crossbeam they're attached to groans under the pressure, threatening to snap in half. 

When Tamsin relaxes, sagging as much as her chains will allow, Bo slides the glass handle free and drops it back into the bowl, careful to keep the leather clear of the ice water. She turns back and slides her hands over Tamsin's hips, presses soft kisses into the quivering muscles of her abdomen. 

Still throbbing and dazed from her orgasm, Tamsin hardly notices Bo climbing onto the bed; she's only vaguely aware of the leather cuffs being removed, of Bo guiding her to lie back against the pillows. Her pants are tugged the rest of the way off, the now-damp towel she was kneeling on slid out from under her, blankets pulled up over her hips. Tamsin moans unintelligibly and rolls onto her stomach, curling her hands under the pillow. It wouldn't take much to drift off to sleep right now.

A few moments later Bo crawls into bed, props herself up on an elbow at Tamsin's side. Her hand sweeps broad, calming strokes over Tamsin's back, soothing the hyper-sensitive skin. Tamsin can tell this is going to be one of those nights where Bo insists on cuddling, but she can't summon the energy to protest. 

"I'm gonna pay you back for that, you know," Tamsin mumbles into the pillow. 

Bo presses herself along Tamsin's side, slings an arm over her hips. "Looking forward to it," she replies, dropping a kiss onto Tamsin's shoulder before dropping her head onto her own pillow. 

Despite her exhaustion, Tamsin smirks as her mind starts to fill with ideas. Bo's going to find out just how much of a bitch payback can be.


End file.
